Hot Master!
by SithRuse
Summary: What is it like to be the padawan of a devastatingly handsome Jedi Knight? Ahsoka finds out firsthand.


Hot Master

by Ruse

Summary: What is it like to be the padawan of a devastatingly handsome Jedi Knight?

Disclaimer: Disney owns Star Wars. I make no money off of this story. I own nothing but a sincere desire to pinch Ani and Obi's shebs.

Xxx

It had shaped up to be one of _those_ days. Unfortunately, Ahsoka Tano had not heeded the warning presented to her in the form of a scalded behind in the 'fresher, for she had, in fact, left her quarters afterward. When one of the other apprentices, a churlish Mon Cal by the name of Thulu, had corrected her in her History of the 18th Evoric Dynasty class, she had not turned her back on the day's shining rays. Even when one of the lower links in her padawan beads had come loose, fell and slid against Master Windu's boot in 'saber practice, causing him to pause in his talk with an eyebrow raised while everyone watched her retrieve it, Ahsoka had not decided to forsake the rest of the day and call it quits.

It had been one of _those_ days, indeed, but surely now, as evening enveloped a Temple of tired initiates and contemplative masters, _certainly_ the barrage of annoyances was at an end. A lonely walk through the grand halls and several innocuous descents had brought Ahsoka to the Temple refectory without incident. Why, _most assuredly_ this was a good sign, a sign of a relaxed evening with good food and good friends, then off to bed to sleep a peaceful sleep. It was _unequivocally_ the evidence of a serene dinner to come that her food had managed to find her plate without fail, that her glass had not let a single drop stray from its cavernous embrace.

Taking her tray, she eyed the room for a likely dinner companion or two. Her master was nowhere to be seen—which was typical when they were on Coruscant. It annoyed her, privately, but this was hardly unusual and thus was not truly a contribution to the day having been one of _those_ days. Master forgotten, blue eyes keen, Ahsoka scanned with the professionalism of a true Jedi and spotted a trio in the back. Painting a smile on her face, she approached and as she neared her ears snagged a piece of the conversation.

"...is _so_ thermal!" one of the padawans of her year was saying. Eleni, a Nautolan of sixteen—Ahsoka's own age—was clearly in the throes of a good pant-fest over someone. No wonder Brone, a human male of seventeen, looked like he was ready to bury his head beneath his salad.

"Who's thermal?" Ahsoka asked cheerfully, sitting down beside the remaining companion, a human female named Gretka. Ahsoka forgot her age.

Now this was where the day's strange vibe began to show up once more. The three friends shut their mouths and seemed unnaturally interested in the contents of their respective food trays. Ahsoka should have stopped here, remained silent and let the ticking seconds put the awkward moment out of its misery. She did not. Giving an uncomfortable cough did nothing to cause her friends to enlighten her. Ahsoka eyed all three of them in turn, then went for the direct approach and challenged them with, "Well?"

It was getting rapidly more difficult for them to ignore her and save face. A few seconds passed, another few, and then, just as she felt it might be prudent to choke a confession out of someone, Gretka said, "It was nothing."

"Come on," Ahsoka insisted, rolling her eyes at the cop-out. She took a bite of her dinner roll and motioned at Eleni. "What? Is it someone embarrassing?" Her expression went suspicious tinged with faint disgust. "Do you still have a crush on Ga-..."

Eleni's eyes widened and with an inhuman alacrity, she hissed, "No! Now, hush!" Clearly she had not informed the other two of her guilty pleasure. Ahsoka filed that away.

She shrugged at her friends. "Then who is it? It can't be _that_ bad."

The pressure got to Brone first. It was too much to bear the weight of the intricacies of feminine discourse and without heeding the warning glances of Eleni and Gretka, he said, "They're talking about your master."

Ahsoka's eyes went abstract with confusion for a second, as if eternity had blanked her mind to heal it from too strong a philosophical revelation. And then, without paying proper attention to little courtesies like volume, she burst, " _Anakin?!_ "

Gretka gripped Ahsoka's arm as if to forestall her from walking into a pit of vipers. Eleni growled, "Shh!" Meanwhile, Brone simply looked pained and stirred at his soup with the forlorn intensity of one trying to inwardly rebuild a shattered innocence.

Lowering her tone, Ahsoka repeated, " _Anakin_? Thermal?"

Eleni pursed her lips and gazed at her dumbfounded friend critically. "You can't be that blind, Ahsoka. You're humanoid enough to be able to appreciate his," she inhaled deeply, eyes going dreamy, "devastating eyes..."

Gretka nodded her agreement. "His curly hair..."

Eleni seemed to positively throb with adoration, "His firm, round..."

"Stop it!" Brone cut in, waving an arm, hand splayed and face firm. "I am _trying_ to _enjoy_ my _dinner_." He gripped his fork with a shell-shocked tremor.

Stunned. That was an understatement, but to this day there have been invented no words strong enough to match the quality of Ahsoka's astonishment. Yes, Ahsoka was stunned and moreover, she was a little bit scandalized. Was this what the rest of the padawans thought? Her eyes gazed around as if she could spot the twisted truth within their hearts, but all she got for her trouble was a few weird looks. Needing to confirm she had heard right, she repeated, " _Thermal_?" in such a way that seemed to beg for correction. "Anakin?"

Impatience swelled in the Force. Eleni reached across the table and flicked a tiny vegetable at Ahsoka, which splatted against her cheek. "You know darn well he's thermal. Stop acting like you don't hug your pillow at night, pretending it's him."

One of Ahsoka's eyes twitched half shut. She was tempted to accuse her friend of projecting, but her fuses were still blowing and her brain was approaching a state of meltdown. No, she had never really considered Anakin quote-unquote 'thermal'. Her mind's eye conjured up an image of him, of his laughing face, his sparkling eyes... A tingle tickled her belly and another fuse in her brain shorted out.

No, no _no!_ Well, she could _sort of_ see why some _might_ possibly, in a sort of _minimal_ way, think he was at least passable. But these people did not know what he was like behind closed doors. For Force's sake, he was hairy! Eleni was Nautolan, she should be abhorred by this! Ahsoka was! She had seen firsthand the horror that was her master's unclothed armpit and the very image of it made her squirm in revulsion. And who knew where else he had hair!

Then there were, unseen by most, his unsavory bodily habits. There was a certain mystique about Jedi that outsiders sometimes applied to them, as if they were beings of pure Light that knew no wrong and had no need of worldly availings. Which was nothing, nothing but a dirty illusion, as any Jedi could privately confess. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Anakin Skywalker did know how to burp and he was no slouch when it came to volume, depending on what he had consumed.

Ahsoka let out a squeak, tried to pinch herself awake and moaned when it didn't work.

"I don't know," Gretka mused, petting Ahsoka's arm gently, as if comfort were even possible under these circumstances. "I think Master Kenobi's pretty thermal, too."

Ignoring Ahsoka's second squeak, Eleni scoffed, "He's old."

"Still thermal," Gretka insisted right back.

Brone groaned and laid his forehead on the table before him in lamentation. "The Force has forsaken us all. Please end my suffering."

Honestly, Ahsoka couldn't agree more. Eleni went on, throwing fighter fuel on the fire. "Okay, fine. Master Kenobi _is_ thermal. Just not as thermal as Master Skywalker."

Ahsoka squeaked for a third time and closed her eyes, trying to blot out the universe. The universe remained stable, however, as evidenced by Gretka's continued petting and her soothing voice saying, "I think poor Ahsoka's having a hard time with this. He _is_ her master."

"And grandmaster," Ahsoka whimpered, trying to review him in her mind's eyes as well. His smile... Oh, Force, _no!_

Having none of that, Eleni rolled her eyes. She was quite convinced that no force in the known galaxy could deny the unassailable truth that was Skywalker's attractiveness. "Please." Her expression then grew lofty and she scooted closer to the table, bending to speak in a low, confiding tone. "You've been on dozens of missions with both of them. Surely, you've seen _something_."

Her shock gave way to indignity. "Like _what?_ "

The girls both giggled, oblivious to her pain. "Like maybe a midnight bath by a stream," Gretka mused.

Eleni nodded, loving that. "Or maybe an injury that tore into those tight pants?"

"Yes, yes!" Brone mocked acidly, flinging his hands out. "Come on, Ahsoka, give us a sheb or two, at least!" He then covered his eyes and moaned out, "Is this what it is to be Jedi? Is it? Oh, Force."

Ahsoka blushed a deep, deep russet, shaking her head back and forth in utter perplexity. "Well, that's just...I mean...you just...I can't even..."

Gretka widened her eyes and giggled. "She _has!_ You _have_ to tell us!"

Shoving her plate away from her, Ahsoka jumped up from the table and let her eyes roam the three of them. There was a deep-seated accusation there and she wasn't sure the urge to hurl it would ever go away now. Her mouth moved, her brain churned and tried to work, but in the end all she could manage to hiss was, " _You...just...ugh!_ "

The laughter of the girls and the moan of the single, traumatized boy was the fanfare of her escape. Ahsoka trotted the halls, finally able to turn her back on the day, to give it up as a lost cause and hide within the innermost depths of her own private sanctum—her bedroom in the quarters she shared with her master, that Sith spanking son of a sleemo snot sucker (no offense to the poor, late Shmi Skywalker)! How dare he put her through this level of embarrassment with his soft hair (nasty) and his infectious smile (negligible)! It was just _great_ knowing that all her friends were secretly drooling themselves sick over her master! It was bad enough that he was the Chosen One, the one everyone questioned her over, asking about his power, his opinions, his flying capabilities. Now they were going to ask her to describe his _shebs_?

Arriving at the door to home, Ahsoka breathed outward and tried to purge herself of her unseemly emotions. Maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe she was overreacting.

When she opened the door laughter hit her ears. And there they were, both of them. Master Anakin and Master Obi-Wan, seated at the kitchenette table, joking around, looking serene, looking completely at ease with the galaxy, looking... _thermal_. They both gazed over at her with heart melting smiles of greeting. How completely unacceptable.

"Hey, Snips," Anakin said, his fingers absently playing at the rim of his tea cup. "Wanna join us?"

The last of her circuits fried. With a glare Ahsoka approached her master, slapped him upside the back of the head, stomped into her bedroom and if she could have slammed that electronic door shut, you bet your Bespin booties she would have.

Outside at the table, Anakin rubbed the back of his head and muttered, "What was that for?" as he turned back to his master. He looked at Obi-Wan, who was snickering into his tea. "Was I ever that weird?"

"Weird?" Obi-Wan echoed, swirling the contents of his tea around, watching the brown liquid slosh. "No. Not 'weird'. But you had the market cornered on 'annoying'."

"Gee, thanks," Anakin replied smartly.

Obi-Wan winked at his former padawan, thoroughly enjoying that for once it wasn't _him_ having to deal with an unruly apprentice. "No charge."


End file.
